


sa langueur oisive

by DesertStorm



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Canon Era, Child Neglect, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, pretentious nature symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 16:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13574541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertStorm/pseuds/DesertStorm
Summary: She is fourteen, and it is winter, and they have not seen their parents in three weeks.Éponine talks to the moon.





	sa langueur oisive

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt to publish a fic in years. I realized that my problem with multichaptered fic was that I lost motivation once I'd published the first chapter; thus, the solution was to only publish completed fic. As you may be able to tell by my underpopulated Works page, this strategy hasn't worked out so well.
> 
> This is so short I almost didn't publish it, save for the encouragement of a couple of good friends. Thanks, y'all.
> 
> Warnings in end notes.

She is fourteen, and she and her sister shiver under the bridge. They are safe from the snow here, at least, but that doesn’t help the cold.

Her sister’s face is contorted in her sleep, tormented by the cold even in dreams. Éponine is awake. She sits up against the damp stone arch of the bridge, head turned towards Azelma, eyes wide open.

Coming to a decision, she stands up, throwing off the rag in her lap that passes for their blanket. Éponine steps out from under the bridge and looks up at the sky. The moon shines down, calm and full.

“Hello, Mademoiselle,” Éponine says. “Don’t suppose you’ve happened to see my parents around.”

The moon does not reply. Éponine sighs and sits down near the edge of the water, head tilted up.

“I bet you have,” she tells the moon. “I bet you’ve seen ‘em, wherever they are. I bet you can watch all the world from up there. I bet you spend your time learning all the gossip. Won’t you talk to me, Mademoiselle Moon? I’m not going to sleep tonight.”

Her gaze drops to the water. The moon’s reflection is a bright circle against the black. It’s too dark for Éponine to see herself. She’s struck by a sudden thought.

“Would you let me join you, Mademoiselle?” she whispers. She scoots forward a little so she can see the reflection better, legs dangling over the edge. “I could come to you. Would you take me up into the sky with you, to help me look for ‘em myself? Wouldn’t that be nice? Just the two of us, and the stars.”

The moon seems to glimmer in the water. Éponine reaches for it, fingers stretching out toward the rippling circle. She imagines what it would be like to push herself off the edge, to slip into the welcoming embrace of the river, to be lifted up into the arms of the moon and the sky. She leans forward, arm outstretched, to join the dark rush of water, to fall into the bright circle - 

Her bare toes brush the surface of the water, and she bites back a cry of shock and scrambles back from the edge, snatching her hand to her chest. The water is  _ cold. _

Her sister whimpers in troubled sleep from under the bridge. She comes back to herself. She imagines Azelma waking up alone, Éponine vanished forever, swallowed up by the river. There wouldn’t have been a trace left of her, as though she’d dissipated into thin air.

The river’s embrace would not be welcoming, she thinks. The river would bite at her skin like one of her father’s friends. The moon’s image in the water is an imperfect mimicry, the perfect circle distorted by the rushing current.

Éponine returns to her sister and crawls back under their blanket, out of the cold light of the moon.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS FOR: canonical suicidal thoughts, canonical self-averted suicide attempt, briefly implied underage (no worse than what's implied in canon), severe child neglect (temporarily, but the children in question don't know that)
> 
> Title from "Tristesses de la lune" by Charles Baudelaire.


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